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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25607320">Burning heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwenChan/pseuds/GwenChan'>GwenChan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blanket Permission, Body Horror, Compulsion, Crossover, Gen, Historical References, Immortality, Interrogation, Podfic Welcome, Sorry Not Sorry, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:15:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,522</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25607320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwenChan/pseuds/GwenChan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A man is visiting the Institute over and over across the years, showing no sign of change whatsoever.<br/>Gertrude is willing to get to the bottom of things.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Burning heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Gertrude Robinson had met that man it had been 1975, around April, on a Tuesday if she recalled correctly.<br/> <br/>He had immediately caught her eye, no pun intended, for the way he had walked inside the Institute, almost like a person who had been there before, though neither Gertrude nor anyone else of the staff could remember to have ever seen him before.<br/> <br/>Then there had been his calm attitude. Most visitors that came to them to release a statement were deeply agitated, trying desperately to find some explanation for the paranormal event they had just experienced. There had been some exceptions, of course, the occasional people who were active members of a cult, the hunters, the scholars of the paranormal, but that man didn't seem to belong to any of those groups either.<br/> <br/> <br/>Overall, the man had been normal, dare Gertrude said, quiet in manners, albeit visibly irritated. He had gone to the front office, informed them about how half his living room had been tangled in cobwebs, demanded to fix things and made to leave.<br/> <br/>When the girl at the welcoming desk suggested he called a normal pest company or grab a broom to clean up, because the Institute official job was only to register witnesses accounts, he laughed.<br/> <br/> <br/>"I doubt a broom will do anything against the doing of an avatar of the Web, Miss."<br/> <br/> <br/>Since then around twenty years had passed. March 2nd, 1997 and again Gertrude Robinson had lifted her head from a statement to see the same figure pass by. Same in everything, as the man didn't seem to have aged a single day.<br/> <br/> <br/>In retrospective, the fact hadn't dismayed Gertrude as much as she felt it should have. Probably after thirty years working for the Institute and actively fighting supernatural Entities trying to take over the World, nothing fazed her that much. A member of the Lightless Flame had been her first supposition. The cultists were known to have exchanged their mortal life for a supposedly eternal body of wax, after all.<br/> <br/> <br/>In the great scheme of things, a burnt hand was a little price to pay. Only that, no, the man's body wasn't made of wax. His hands had felt maybe a bit too calloused for a young fellow who must have been an academic, given his fashion style, but his skin was still overall human.<br/> <br/> <br/>That had been when Gertrude had begun to frame him as another of the few touched by The End. He had left before she could dig deeper into her theory, though, not before having communicated how a whole new floor had appeared into the Tube, swallowing already a couple of poor blokes who had wandered for two days before he had found the floor by chance and guided them back outside.<br/> <br/> <br/>He wasn't a servant of the Spiral either, though. There were moments Gertrude had looked at him and felt for a split second how his fingers, his body, his limb didn't quite match his measurement like he was taller than what it seemed; yet, she knew first hand the feeling the Spiral gave and he didn't match it.<br/> <br/> <br/>Now, our year of the lord 2014, January, there they were again, with Gertrude who counted a new wrinkle every time she looked in the mirror and this man who either had found the fountain of youth or could pass his DNA from father to son with no alteration whatsoever.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/>Gertrude didn't particularly like to use her powers as a Servant of the Beholding. She had seen what Entities do to their avatars, the Eye included, and she didn't quite enjoyed be part of that mess. Years of fighting cults, entities and rituals pretty much with old, dear mundane means had proven quite well one didn't need super-powers to save to world.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/>This time yet was different,<br/> <br/> <br/>"It's been a while" she welcomed the man, a bit surprised he had communicated to have come to the Institute to gave a statement instead of simply referring some strange occurrence he had recently witness and leave.<br/> <br/> <br/>"Ind-" He caught himself. "I believe you are referring to my father. It's my first time coming here."<br/> <br/> <br/>Which could also be possible. Rare. But possible. Gertrude got more comfortable on her chair, setting on the table her recording equipment. "Yes, I remember your father. In 1975. But not in 1997," she continued, feeling the compelling slowly weaving its powers into her voice.<br/> <br/>"My older brother," the man stopped her right there. "You met my father and my older brother.”<br/> <br/>“I see." She nodded, forcing herself to put the Beholding back in check.<br/> <br/>Gertrude wasn't stupid and it wasn't hard to smell and expose an excuse so feeble. Yet, the man hadn't appeared for now to be an immediate threat and apart from the curiosity itching under Gertrude’s skin, it could wait some more minutes. Just the time to see what he had to say, let him dictate his statement and then expose whether he was.<br/> <br/>A man could live with some hunting nightmares after all.<br/> <br/>"So, what's with this visit, Mr,” she rummaged her vast mind for a name “Kirkland, am I correct?”<br/>“Perfect memory. Yes, Ma’am. Arthur Kirkland,” he finally introduced himself. Gertrude took a mental note to check the records to see if the same name popped up in an older statement. "It's about some papers I found while digging in the family heirloom. Letters, accounts, from the Great London Fire."<br/>"And you believe it could be of interest for the Institution?"<br/>"Yes. As a testimony of a failed ritual of the Desolation."<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/>It wasn’t impossible some people came to the Institute with full knowledge of the Entities and what they meant, but it was rare. Gertrude straightened her back, getting more comfortable into her chair. She folded her fingers in her lap as Kirkland picked his phone from his pocket. <br/>"An attempt to turn my ancestor into an avatar."<br/> <br/>He showed her the phone, murmured something on how he had photographed the letters as they were too fragile to be moved,<br/> <br/>“Well, then let's hear them.” <br/> <br/>There would have been time, later, to determine if they were fake or real, useful or not. Time had taught Gertrude to listen before judging. She turned the recorder to face the man. <br/> <br/>“Statement of Arthur Kirkland, given 9th January 2014, regarding the testimony of his ancestor and his relationship with the Cult of the lightless flame. Statement recorded directly from the subject. Statement begins."<br/> <br/> <br/><br/><em>To Sir Antonio Fernandez Carriedo,</em><br/><br/><em>this is a personal letter, as I am writing only on behalf of myself and not in representation of any group, for that much is possible for those of our kinds. Consequently, I would ask you to set momentarily aside our hostility for the sake of the world at hand.</em><br/><br/><em>I do not know if the news reached your side of Europe yet. While these days they travel faster than it happened in the past, my home and yours are still quite distant.</em><br/><br/><br/><em>In case, allow me to briefly introduce the issue here. Last September, a fire started in a bakery down Pudding street and given a series of circumstances, the mayor utterly incompetence and strong wind, it quickly spread throughout the whole city. I will not aggrieve you with the gruesome details, but let it be known most of London has been destroyed. </em><br/><br/><em>I barely escaped the fire and suffered deep injuries in the process.</em><br/><br/><em>This is, however, the official story the people will know. I am afraid the real causes of the fire are far more fearsome.</em><br/><br/><em>I should warn you. Those who follow the Flame are becoming bolder and bolder with each passing year, believing only in their messianic destruction. They would not hesitate to burn a whole city to the ground for their ritual purposes if that meant one of our status turn on their side, whether they liked it or not.</em><br/><br/><em>I believe this will not be their last attempt. We must be careful. Having some of our status on their sides would mean damages I do not wish to fathom at the moment.</em><br/><br/><em>Rumour has it your young protégé witnessed their doing in his younger days. I doubt a kid so little at the time could remember anything, but I believe to attempt should go untried.</em><br/><br/><em>Once again, I trust you will set aside our enmity in light of the recent developments.</em><br/><br/><em>Your obedient servant,</em><br/><br/><em>A. Kirkland</em><br/><br/> <br/>There was a small pause before Gertrude realised Kirkland had finished his reading of his ancestor recounting. Truth be told, nothing in the letter had been particularly enlightening or helpful, nothing that added anything to what she already knew.<br/> <br/> <br/>"The last sentences" she played the record button again "What is your ancestor referring?"<br/> <br/> <br/>"Pom- A fire that had happened in a village in Southern Italy I believe. It isn’t clear.”<br/> <br/>There, it was once more, that subtle twitch of the lips of someone catching themselves last minute before saying something incriminating. He measured his words. He watched his gestures. He claimed to have never visited the Institute and bore the same features of someone who had been there over and over in the past. Even more, he had identical manners, same way to fold his hands, the same eyebrow quirking upwards before posing a question.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/>“Your family is well informed on the Entities” Gertrude commented in a while, deciding for an approach that wasn’t too direct. “It’s rare. Unless, of course, they hadn’t been chosen to serve. Who do you serve, Mr Kirkland?”<br/>“My – no one.”<br/>“We all serve someone.”<br/>“Not me. It’s not- not your concern.”<br/> <br/>It always felt a bit strange to call the Compulsion over someone, the way the air began to crackle, the thrill of pure adrenaline rushing for just one second under the skin, the tips of the tongue itching. <br/> <br/> <br/>"I know the power of the Eye, miss Robinson. I have to let you know, it won't work on me."<br/> <br/> <br/>Indeed, Kirkland was putting on quite the resistance. Gertrude could almost feel him desperately trying to retain the same words and reality she was attempting to pull out of his mouth.<br/> <br/>"Then, I believe you don't know it as well as you think"<br/> <br/> <br/>Because Gertrude wasn't the type to stop at the first obstacle, not after all the hardship many had put on her path. There were those who wanted to preserve the world and those who wished nothing but to destroy it, neutrality or a third category wasn’t an option. Not knowing was a danger.<br/> <br/>Curiosity itched and burnt. It was the thrill of a mystery being unravelled. The sudden clarity when all pieces of the jigsaw finally come together.<br/> <br/>"So you have no remorse in condemning an innocent to a lifetime of terror."<br/> <br/>He had his nails dug into his thigh, face turned to the site, bottom lip trapped between front teeth to the point of blood.<br/> <br/>Yes, Gertrude didn't like the side effect of the Compulsion, as she didn’t like many things she did, but she had done them. She had done them for the sake of the world. <br/> <br/>"I protect humanity Mr Kirkland and I’m willing to make some compromises to do so."<br/> <br/>That was when he nodded, a simple, almost unnoticeable movement of the head forward, and his whole body relaxed in supposed defeat. He spoke in the neutral tone many people had when forced to give a statement,<br/> <br/>"England," he murmured.<br/> <br/>"Yes, also England, I believe it enters the definition of the whole of humanity."<br/> <br/>Arthur shook his head, looking at Gertrude from down below, mouth half-opened what she supposed to be the last attempt at resisting her power. <br/> <br/>"No. It's --- I lied about my name. England, My name is England."<br/> <br/>Well, that was unexpected, but it didn't give anything useful. "Quite the patriotic family" Gertrude conceded. "But really, who are you?"<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/>"England," the man repeated with the same colourless voice he had before, staring at Gertrude with unfocused eyes. She asked again, using various types of phrasing and each time the answer was the same. One single word.<br/> <br/>"Interesting. I thought you may be an Avatar of the End. This is quite surprising."<br/> <br/> <br/>And really kind of threw her original plans out of the window. For years her job has been protecting the world against the doing of outwardly Entities which fed on human terrors, and it had quite made her develop a sixth sense, beside the Eye, to sense when a Power had touched someone. While the End didn't always grant immortalities to its acolytes, it wasn't that rare of an occurrence.<br/> <br/> <br/>This could easily destroy years of studies. <br/> <br/> <br/>"And are there others like you?"<br/> <br/> <br/>"Obviously" he answered, still under the influence of the Eye. There were attempts at resisting, in the corners, little stretch into Gertrude own mind, places where she couldn't go no matter how hard she pushed through. Some minds were simple and malleable, some were cruel and terrifying, some were unique, others chaos of a collective.<br/> <br/> <br/>Arthur Kirkland’smind was all of this in one. Gertrude hadn't noticed it at first, but now that she was being more careful, she realised how his voice echoed, how it seemed to always be a delay between the first sound and the last one anything he said. A great ventriloquist. Or, as he had claimed to be, the representation of a whole community. He smelled of the sea.<br/> <br/> <br/>Gertrude’s curiosity screamed in delight. Her mouth almost started salivating at the thought of the hunger of knowledge a similar discovery could satisfy, questions piling over other questions.<br/> <br/>The matter at hand, however, was still the most pressing. Beyond how interesting and groundbreaking the finding was, Gertrude Robinsons continued to have a single objective to pursue. "England" had claimed to have information regarding the Cult of the Lightless flame and she had all intention to exploit them.<br/> <br/>"Those letters of your ancestors. I suppose they were yours" she reprised the conversation. He nodded, a flicker of uneasiness in his eyes.<br/> <br/>"Then, I am much interested in knowing what happened."<br/> <br/>The Cult of the Lightless flame hadn’t existed at the time. This was the first thing "England" précised. To better say it, a cult to serve the Desolation was already present, only with another name, and way less organized than it was now. It didn't surprise Gertrude to have confirmation the Cult dated back to the XVII century. In an epoch where mostly housing was made of woods, with almost no attention whatsoever to safety and proper urban planning, it wasn't far-fetched people would have a religious terror of fires. Not considering the wars and the plundering that occasionally had vexed the lands over the centuries.<br/> <br/>If a person was the land and their people, it was easy to understand how the capital would be the heart. To burn the heart of someone in the sacred flame was in the eyes of the Cult the perfect way to ensure their sacrifice to their divinity. When that someone happened to be an immortal being who breathed and bled the souls of hundreds of subjects, burning their heart would ensure a power unimaginably.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/>The first time they had tried to burn "England" in person, ambushing him on the streets at night, knocking him out violently before he could even think to put up a fight. They had come prepared, in a large group of strong men, too many for him to contrast even with the supposed super-strength of a nation.<br/> <br/> <br/>"When I came back to my senses, I was tied in some dark room. I wasn't really afraid. After all, I've been alive and dealing with similar situations for quite some centuries already. Sometimes it's an enemy nation taking you prisoner. Sometimes it's church fanatics claiming we are the Devil offsprings. Sometimes some scientists who got a little to carried away.<br/>So I waited. And cursed. A lot. Mostly waited. After a while I could start to hear some voices, chanting. Latin, I suppose. I still could speak and understand it pretty decently at the time. It's funny when I first smelled the smoke and felt the pain of the burns I believed it was revenge from an old enemy for something I did some times before.<br/>But the voices were very much English in accent."<br/> <br/>So, in short, he had been burned at the stake and somehow came back good as new. That part he couldn't explain, not even if compelled. It simply happened. Sometimes there was endless, continuous pain, with no relief from death. Other, death came and went away as it had never been there.<br/> <br/>After the men had left he woke up again in a body that should've supposedly been destroyed.<br/> <br/>Since that episode, it hadn't taken much for the Cultists to realize their plan had failed, as no immense power or any kind of visible change had come for them. <br/> <br/>"Thus, they started to aim at my more, uhm, metaphoric existence."<br/> <br/>If a body was a nation, then burning its capital would have the very same effect as burning its heart to ashes.<br/> <br/>"How does that work?" Gertrude interrupted "England" story, feeling like a child. She knew of immortal beings, whether good or evil, but never quite like this. <br/> <br/>He shrugged, just so, crossing his arms over his chest in a mockery of self-defence, fingers digging into the cloth over his forearms. <br/> <br/>"Your heart burns. Your chest burns. You burn. Only that this time it's - it's real". <br/>He hesitated on the choice of adjective, fingers going down to pop the first buttons of his shirt. Gertrude adjusted her glasses on her nose, bending forward to better see. On the spread of pale skin, under the right light, a spiral of pearl scars scattered all over England's chest. <br/> <br/>"They aren't all from the Great Fire, of course" he traced some of them as he spoke, "But mostly are."<br/> <br/>Because when only a nation flesh vessel was damaged, there may be pain, endless pain, but it was still a simulacrum. But hurting the land, killing the people, that would annihilate a nation from its very core.<br/> <br/>"One of the greatest sacrifice in the history of the Lightless Flame."<br/> <br/>"Yet. I infer you didn't become an Avatar of the Desolation. How?"<br/> <br/>"My heart, my city. It was damaged, scorched, destroyed, maybe. But not dead."<br/> <br/>Like a kid before a full course banquet of sweets, Gertrude would stand there forever, listening, asking questions on questions to quench the endless thirst of knowledge. Thinking what mysteries a man that had supposedly lived for centuries could solve, it made her clench her fists with excitement. <br/> <br/>That would have been for another day<br/> <br/>"I think it's enough" she used what was left of her self-control to pull out of the Beholding power. In doing so, a vague sense of uneasiness crept over her back, for just a fraction of second. Somehow it was the knowledge of having almost tapped in a dark well of secrets that could destroy a mortal soul; and somehow was the feeling of what may happen if the Eye scarred forever a, well, a nation.<br/> <br/>"Is this link, two-sided?" she still couldn't resist from asking. Just one last question. He frowned, lips pursued in visible disgust for what had just happened. <br/>"I beg your pardon?"<br/>"If someone has to hurt you, would the nation suffers the consequences?" Gertrude clarified. There was a moment of silence, then, "I doubt it. It's something I never witnessed. Now, if you excuse me, I must go."<br/> <br/> <br/>Gertrude didn't stop him. The chair scratched against the linoleum floor and the tape recorder clicked when Gertrude stopped it). Honestly, she didn't expect for the man to halt mid-way toward the door and to turn again towards her. <br/>"I've been following the Institute since it was founded and -" he looked about to say something. "No, It's not up to me." He shook his head instead, yet lingering in the doorframe, the face of someone who's weighing the pro and cons of the Fate of the Universe. <br/> <br/>“Łukasiewicz,” came finally his last verdict “Feliks. The only nation avatar the Desolation could ever successfully create, although completely unwillingly, the irony. That's the person you should ask."<br/> <br/>"Strange."<br/> <br/>Gertrude folded the little piece of paper on which "England" had written a name and an address. Warsaw, she read.<br/> <br/>"What?"<br/> <br/>"You know perfectly I will use the Compulsion of this person and yet you are willing to sacrifice them. why?"<br/> <br/>He tilted his chin back, a shadow falling on his face. If beyond the Compulsion, beyond what she had already seen, Gertrude still had doubts, that destroyed them all. He looked at her and in that stare, a fraction of second, there was nothing of the human left. Only the ruthlessness that came from immortality, the cruelty of someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kill to survive. <br/> <br/>Something Gertrude knew all too well.<br/> <br/>"I’ve done worse Mrs Robinsons and I’m sure “Łukasiewicz will understand, eventually. After all, it's like you said. We all make sacrifices for the sake of the world.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Super indulgent and I'm not sorry</p></blockquote></div></div>
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